Tortured Artist

What ails the one

who hones his craft

Similar in ways to all the others

yet completes his own way?

When all has dimmed

it is the unseen that is stirred

because of it all

Though corners welcome him

lights shined because of him

And to him only

does his contribution matter

Seeking absolution like able to

sing soprano at will perfectly

Before he aged he knew

And when he knew he aged

Wise without experience

Yet he details his journeys

Vicious is the cycle that

encompasses him

Fight he will until all

is said and done

A face with a meaningful name

is a work of art

Well, the craft is crafty

ensuring one’s not forgotten

He will be the one who lingers

once he tires of that which no one

else hears but him

Touch he does without needing you

Love, Lust, violate without feeling

becomes his motivation

Like Artwork

See the gestures of prayers before you

Hear the mantras that stimulate symptoms

of hilarity

Captured for all of time

as proof something so pitifully

connected ever dwelled